


Thorn

by wilddragonflying



Series: The Rose of Adversity [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse of police gear, As Syn put it, Bondage, Connor is a little shit, Creampie, Hank Anderson Has a Big Dick, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Questionable Power Dynamics with VERY ENTHUSIASTIC CONSENT, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Character, Trans Connor, Trans Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Trans Male Character, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: “You know,” Hank calls, leaning against the hood of his cruiser, the vehicle blocking the only exit from the alley, “I thought you went to college to learn how to stay on the other side of the law.”Connor spins the spray paint canister in his hand as he considers Hank, those bright, intelligent eyes out of place under the beanie and above the bulky jacket covering his shoulders. “That didn’t work out,” he says after the silence draws on for a beat too long. “Tuition’s pretty damn expensive. Ended up with a degree in mathematics.”





	Thorn

**Author's Note:**

> Blame @SynTurtle for this
> 
> Heads up: Connor is a trans guy here who has no problem with vaginal penetration; he's also a conniving little shit.
> 
> So basically, heed the tags!
> 
> EDIT: There's now art by the wonderful vulcansketch!!!!!!!

“You know,” Hank calls, leaning against the hood of his cruiser, the vehicle blocking the only exit from the alley, “I thought you went to college to learn how to stay on the other side of the law.”

Connor spins the spray paint canister in his hand as he considers Hank, those bright, intelligent eyes out of place under the beanie and above the bulky jacket covering his shoulders. “That didn’t work out,” he says after the silence draws on for a beat too long. “Tuition’s pretty damn expensive. Ended up with a degree in mathematics.”

Hank hums thoughtfully as he moves closer, gaze flicking over to Connor’s latest ‘masterpiece.’ “Should’ve gone for a degree in art,” he says dryly. “You’ve got talent. Shame it’s being used to vandalize public property.”

Connor’s eyes widen, the corners of his mouth turning down into what Hank recognizes - after almost a full decade as sheriff and nearly twenty-five years in law enforcement - as faux-innocence. “ _I_ _s_ this public property, Sheriff?”

Hank rolls his eyes. “You know damn well it is, Arkait. Come on, you know the drill by now.”

Connor huffs out something that might be a laugh, but he obligingly drops the paint and turns to the wall, bracing himself against it. This isn’t the first time Connor’s been caught tagging a building, and it’s certainly not the first time he’s been searched since he came back from college. Hank doesn’t find anything suspicious, nothing that would warrant a further search, so he reads Connor his rights as he pulls the cuffs off of his belt, the metal clicking into place around Connor’s wrists before Hank gets a hand on his jacket, leads him towards the car.

It’s late, just gone past the halfway point of the night shift, so the street on the other side of the cruiser is quiet, the soft light from the streetlamps barely reaching far enough into the alley to keep them from tripping over the rough ground. Still, Hank nearly trips when Connor startles him by speaking. “You know, it’s awfully late.”

“ _No,_ ” Hank drawls. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’d hate to wake my brother up at this time of night,” Connor continues as if Hank hadn’t spoken. “Sure I can’t convince you to let me go, just this once?”

Hank snorts. “Really, Arkait, you’re not getting out of this. So keep your mouth shut and get moving.”

Connor, however, stops - stops, twists in place, and steps into Hank’s space, Hank’s grip on his jacket forcing his shoulders back. The movement exposes the line of his throat - and when Connor tilts his head, it accentuates the long, pale expanse of skin there. “Or,” he says, voice dropping into something downright _sinful,_ something that has heat pooling low in Hank’s gut, “I could stop moving and keep my mouth open. We could both come out ahead here, Sheriff.”

Hank ignores how his cock twitches at the sound of his title coming out of Connor’s mouth in _that_ tone of voice. “What are you on about, kid?” he growls, like he doesn’t know - but maybe if he makes Connor say it out loud, he’ll back down, realize it’s ridiculous.

The chances of that are looking slim, though; Connor _licks his fucking lips,_ his gaze brazenly drifting over Hank, down and then back up in a way that sends shivers down his spine before he meets Hank’s gaze again. “You don’t have to fill out any paperwork or go back to the station, I don’t have to deal with my brother bitching about being dragged out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning…” The corner of his mouth twitches, shifts into a smirk. “I get to do one of my favorite activities, and _you_ get to have you cock sucked, and… Maybe even more.” When Hank doesn’t move, Connor shifts on his feet, moves closer into Hank’s space. “C’mon, _Sheriff,_ ” he purrs. “I know you’re frustrated with me - I’m offering you a chance to take it out on my mouth.”

Look, Hank’s noticed Connor a lot around town since he graduated from college, and maybe he’s thought a couple times about introducing himself, or maybe bumping into Connor in the town’s only ‘club’... But the fact that Connor’s only just _graduated_ stopped most of those thoughts in their tracks. Wasn’t so effective in the shower, or in the early hours of the morning, waking up to an empty bed and thoughts of how nice it would be to have a pretty thing beside him… He’s never imagined this specific scenario, but if Connor wants to be on his knees so damn bad, then maybe this’ll be Hank’s chance to get Connor out of his system. Hank curses under his breath, weighs the pros and cons briefly - but the temptation Connor is laying out right in front of him is too much to resist. “You little _shit,_ ” he swears, using the grip on Connor’s jacket to drag him backwards, until he’s backed against the driver’s door of the cruiser. “You’re an opportunistic little fucker, aren’t you?” 

“Literally, Sheriff,” Connor laughs, dropping to his knees and leaning back against the door of the car; Hank shifts his grip to his shoulder, steps forward so he can cage Connor in between his legs. It’s only then that he releases Connor, reaches for his belt and undoes it with quick, sharp motions.

“This is the only time I’m letting you off,” Hank warns, one hand pulling his cock out while the other pushes under that ridiculous beanie, knocks it to the ground so he can thread his fingers through the messy curls of Connor’s hair and _tug._

“Of course,” Connor hums, licking his lips, gaze fixed on Hank’s cock. “Really hope this won’t be the only time I’m getting you off, though.”

“Cheeky little brat,” Hank mutters under his breath, ignoring the grin Connor flashes at him in favor of guiding his cock to Connor’s lips, tugging harshly at his hair just to watch his mouth drop open on a gasp. “C’mon, then, since you’re so _eager_ for it.”

Something flashes in Connor’s eyes, visible even in the dim light, and he lunges forward, wraps his mouth around Hank’s cock and does as ordered, takes him halfway with that first go before he gags, has to back off. Hank curses, grip tightening, and Connor leans into him, starts working the length of Hank’s cock. He can’t quite take the entire length, but damned if he doesn’t try, pushing himself forward until he gags, tongue rolling against the underside of Hank’s cock when he withdraws. Connor pulls off with a gasp, eyes flicking up to meet Hank’s gaze. “C’mon, I think you can fuck me a bit harder than _that,_ ” he says, _challenges._

Hank scowls down at him, his grip in Connor’s hair tightening until it’s punishing, Connor’s breath hitching. “What was that?” he growls.

“Sorry, _Sheriff,_ ” Connor whines, leaning into Hank’s hand like it’ll get him to ease his grip. It doesn’t. “‘M sorry.”

“I should put a bruise on the back of your head,” Hank mutters, shifting until he can fuck into Connor’s mouth, stop any more smart comments in their tracks. “Fuck you up against the door the cruiser until there’s a dent there.” Connor whines around his cock, and Hank smirks, hips rolling in easy, lazy thrusts, his other hand coming to cup Connor’s jaw, thumb notched at the corner of his mouth, feeling it stretch around the girth of his cock. “Wonder if that would finally get you to stay out of trouble, huh? See my cruiser around town, see that dent, know _exactly_ how it got there and what you were doing to end up here.” 

Connor makes another noise, slightly different from before, and when Hank glances down, he can just barely make out the way Connor’s hips are twitching, like he’s trying to fuck himself against nothing. Hank laughs, something low and rumbling that comes from his chest, and smirks when it gets Connor to repeat that noise, makes the movements of his hips increase, become jerky, frustrated. “You want something, sweetheart?” he asks - taunts, almost, holding Connor’s head in place as he pulls back, a delicate shiver rolling down his spine at the _pop_ of the seal of Connor’s lips breaking. 

“ _Fuck me,_ ” Connor gasps, eyes wide; in the dim light, Hank can’t tell where his pupils end and irises begin, but he suspects that they’re blown wide. His voice sounds wrecked, sounds - 

Sounds like he just got his throat fucked good and hard. 

Hank growls out a curse, reaches down with his free hand to grab Connor by the shoulder, haul him to his feet and spin him. Connor hits the hood of the car with a solid _thump,_ and Hank presses up behind him without hesitation, grinds his cock against Connor’s ass, groans at the friction.

“You want it like this?” he growls, reaching up to wrap one hand around Connor’s throat, pull until Connor’s forced to arch his back or risk blacking out from lack of oxygen. “Want me to fuck you over the hood of this car? Right here in the mouth of the alley? Anyone out for a late night drive could see us, you know.” Connor makes a small noise, and Hank buries his vicious grin in Connor’s shoulder, a nipping kiss that he breaks to continue, “I’m the Sheriff, y’know - they’ll believe me if I tell them you seduced me. I won’t be in any kind of trouble, but _you…_ ” He chuckles, low and dark, enjoys the way Connor shivers underneath him. “Last chance, Connor,” he hums, hand drifting down over Connor’s hip, around until he can flick open the button on Connor’s jeans, tease the fly down. “Gotta use your words, darling. Tell me you want me to fuck you, right here, right now.”

“ _Please,_ ” Connor whines, pushing his ass back into Hank, legs spreading. “Please fuck me, Sheriff, I wanna feel your cock in me, _fuck._ ”

Hank growls wordlessly, dragging down the zipper of Connor’s fly, grabbing jeans and boxers in one bunch and dragging them over Connor’s ass - and freezes when he catches sight of what’s between Connor’s legs. “ _Oh,_ ” he breathes, abandoning the fabric midthigh in favor of squatting down, getting closer to the wet heat Connor’s offering up on a silver platter. “Well, that answers the question of whether we’ll need lube,” he mutters, leaning in to drag his tongue up the _dripping_ slit, dipping down to circle Connor’s cock, enjoying the way Connor writhes under his tongue. “Where do you want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” Hank asks, rocking back on his heels, one hand drifting up the inside of Connor’s thigh, dragging over the soft skin there until he can push past Connor’s folds, rub over his cock just to hear Connor cry out.

“I - Fuck, _please,_ just fuck me,” Connor begs, hips squirming under Hank’s hands - until he lands a solid swat to one cheek, soothing the sting with a firm rub immediately afterwards. It gets Connor to go still, and Hank’s hand drifts higher, until the pad of his finger can drag over the hole there.

“Do you want me to fuck you here? Or your ass?”

Connor whimpers, tosses his head - but just when Hank’s about to stand up, back up and call this whole thing off, apologize for pushing Connor too far, let him go anyway, he gasps out, “There, _please._ ”

Hank stills for only a moment before he’s straightening, pressing close again. “You sure about that?” he asks, needs to be sure before he fucks Connor bare. “I don’t have anything, don’t usually need to carry a condom on me.”

“I know what I'm comfortable with,” Connor shoots back. “You’re not looking for an excuse to back out now, are you, Sheriff?”

Hank huffs, drops another swat to Connor’s ass just to hear him yelp. He sees Connor’s mouth open, about to say something else - but he cuts him off by pressing forward, guiding his cock with one hand, the other gripping the metal of the cuffs binding Connor’s hands hard enough to bite into the flesh of his palm. Whatever Connor was about to say is lost in a moan as Hank fills him up, fucks into him in shallow thrusts until he’s fully seated, the both of them panting. 

Hank can feel sweat beading on his forehead, chill in the night air. He pulls back, rolls his hips forward to fuck back into Connor in one smooth motion, grinning when Connor moans. “Feels good?” he asks in a hum, reaching up with his now-free hand to run his fingers through Connor’s hair, tugging lightly at the tangled strands.

“ _So_ good,” Connor sighs, his own hips rolling, pushing back to meet Hank’s. “ _Fuck,_ c’mon - fuck me, Sheriff.”

Satisfied with that reassurance, Hank complies, shifts the grip in Connor’s hair to his shoulder as he fucks into him without restraint, reveling in the noises each thrust punches from his throat. The street beyond the alley is deserted, their town too small to warrant any late night traffic at 1:30 in the morning. There’s no one to hear Connor moan, hear Hank grunt with the force of his thrusts as he works them both closer to the edge. 

He’s fucking Connor hard enough that the cruiser is rocking on its axles, the suspension being put under stress from an angle the manufacturers probably never considered. The thrill of knowing that if anyone so much as turns the corner at the other end of the street several blocks down, they’ll know _immediately_ what Hank and Connor are doing spurs Hank on, puts an edge to his thrusts and makes him reach for Connor’s cock, rub hard circles around it to encourage him closer to orgasm. “C’mon, baby,” Hank hums, leaning forward so that he can nip at the sensitive skin behind Connor’s ear, relish in the choked moan the gesture earns. “You’re so close, aren’t you? Don’t you want to come on my cock? Bet it’ll feel so good, c’mon, sweetheart.”

“Sher - Sh - “ Connor’s voice climbs a solid octave as he comes, breaking over Hank’s name. “ _Hank!_ ”

Hank swears violently at the feeling of Connor coming around him, clenching on his cock in spasms that drive him alarmingly close. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” he chants, “shit, fuck - I’m gonna - I’m gonna come, baby, gotta pull out - “

“ _Don’t._ ” The single word is a sharp command, and Hank freezes, ignoring everything inside of him that’s telling him to keep going.

“Connor?”

“Don’t,” Connor says, choked, and Hank groans when he feels Connor’s hips roll in a slow, steady motion. “I wanna - want to feel you come in me, want to feel your come in me when I walk away,” he pants, breath fogging against the metal of the hood beneath his cheek. “Don’t pull out, Sheriff.”

Hank hesitates, warring with himself - but when Connor moves, pushes back against him again with a needy little noise, he mutters a curse under his breath and resumes the brutal pace of only moments before. “Fuck, alright,” he sighs, his hand smoothing down Connor’s back in a show of comfort before sliding back up, bracing himself on the back of Connor’s neck, squeezing as he fucks into Connor, chases his own release now that Connor’s come.

It doesn’t take long, Connor’s sweet noises beneath him egging him on just as much as the hot clench of his body around Hank’s cock, and Hank comes with a shout he barely manages to muffle into the shoulder of his own jacket, hips twitching as he buries himself to the root in Connor, trying to work himself deeper. As he comes down from the high, Hank realizes he’s pinned Connor to the hood with one hand, and the other is pulling tight on the cuffs still wrapped around Connor’s wrists, and he winces, carefully releasing his hold, shifting until he can sweep a thumb gently over the abused skin.

He murmurs an apology as he straightens, tucks himself back into his pants, memorizes the sight of his come leaking out of Connor as he pulls Connor’s pants back up. Connor’s still slumped against the hood, breathing hard, and Hank frowns, concerned, as he helps Connor stand up straight, turns him around so he can get a good look at Connor’s face. “You alright, Connor?”

Connor’s gaze is slightly unfocused, but when Hank speaks, he blinks rapidly, then smiles as he looks at Hank. “I’m far better than ‘alright,’” he laughs quietly, and before Hank can react, Connor’s leaning in, pressing his lips to Hank’s in a kiss that’s just this side of bruising.

It’s certainly more than enough to leave Hank dazed - at least until he hears a _click_ and registers the weight of cuffs dropping into his hand. “I’ll see you around, Sheriff,” Connor murmurs as he pulls, something else sliding against Hank’s palm. 

“Wait, you - “

But Connor’s already slid across the hood, out of the alleyway and is striding down the street, turning the corner by the time Hank manages to squeeze himself out of the alley. Cursing himself, Hank turns back to the car, sliding in and starting it up as he puts his cuffs and key back where they belong. He pauses when he sees what else Connor had slipped into his hand - a slip of paper, an artfully messy scrawl spread across it.

_Guess tonight went as planned. Call me sometime._

“You little _shit._ ”


End file.
